


The Life and Adventures of Persephone Trevelyan

by RunawayDragons



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen, Mage Rights, Past Child Abuse, Sexual Content, abuse cw, child abuse tw, da3 spoilers, dai spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 22:58:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3095705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunawayDragons/pseuds/RunawayDragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles and such about Inquisitor Persephone Trevelyan.<br/>The first part is about her childhood and <b>contains triggers for abuse and child abuse</b>.<br/>The second part includes SPOILERS for Dragon Age: Inquisition, and references to her abusive childhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning for Abuse and Child Abuse

****

The Trevelyn Child

She doesn't bother crying, as all it ever does is make her feel worse, eyes puffy, and because if she starts she isn't sure she will be able to stop. Her dress is soaked, water pools around her bare feet on the stone floor. She shudders, cold fills every part of her body, and she desperately wants to be warm. The fireplace in front of her is full of tinder and dry wood, waiting to be lit. Oh how good that warmth would feel, her hand extends towards it longingly, but she quickly realizes what she is doing and stops herself with a mental slap. No. That is how they tricked her last time. Start the fire and the praying and dunking would start again, and she knows that another session of their "cleansing" so soon just might be the end of her. Stubbornness holds her together, as it is all she has left besides the mountain of rage that burns in her heart.   
Movement will help, so she begins bustling about the spare little room. First the wet clothes come off, she hangs them on the back of the lone chair. Next, she grabs the musty blanket from the cot, wraps it around herself, and begins jumping up and down, forcing blood to move. With every jump she focuses on the bit of sky she can see through the slit window above. She doesn't stop moving until her heart is pounding and her toes are sore. Just three more days. Three more days until Mother returns, and then she will be safe until she leaves again. The governess Father hired doesn't dare use her methods of magic prevention when Mother is around. She will grow stronger, and if she is lucky, she will learn enough about her magic to finally be able to do more. Something big enough to scare them all enough so they won't touch her ever again.   
Sleep comes swiftly to the child curled up in the tiny ray of sunlight on the floor. Then the dreams come, and she relaxes. She is clothed, and dry, and she strides around this strange place in search of her friends. First one little ball of light appears, she smiles and greets it affectionately. Soon, she has half a dozen little orbs of light dancing around her, she talks to them as she walks, telling them about her day, both the good and the bad. Some seem to blink reassurances, others crowd closer to share their support. This child is much different than the one who fell asleep, this child glows, this child takes joy and holds on to it tightly, and lets the anger go.   
She wanders the fade, picking up pieces of knowledge as she goes. The wisps advise, and she practices what she they teach her. One time she meets a spirit that talks to her at length, listens to her feelings, and afterwards she leaves feeling hopeful for the first time. She clings to that hope, that one day soon she will be ready to use her power to stop the prayers and cruelty.   
That day comes when she turns 10. Her head is underwater, and she feels it, knows she can control it, her hands are bound but she doesn't need them, her will is enough. She shouts into the water and it evaporates around her, air rushes into her lungs, sending strength back into her body. A shove and a kick and she is upright, her handlers startled and afraid. Tawny eyes lock onto her tormentors as she roars with triumph. The bindings at her wrists turn to ash and fall to the ground. The governess increases her speed of reciting the chant, hands clutching a well worn copy of the written words of her Maker. A flick of a wrist and the woman is encased in ice, only her eyes and nose left free. Her helpers are encased as well, three people turned to frozen statues. Steam rolls off the defiant child, her red hair crackling with energy.   
"You will never touch me again."  
The words come out as an order, bound in iron willpower.   
She is sent to the circle the next day, her mother in tears, convinced that this is the first time her only daughter has shown the ability for magic, that it was all an accident. Persephone hugs her mother, then turns to face the gray haired man who stands rigid at her side, a look of sadness on his face. She knows it is a mask, and he knows she knows. The young girl stands straight and glares at him, letting her anger rise, letting it make her eyes glow once more, so he knows, knows she will never forget, nor forgive.   
The templars lead her out, and she doesn't care, because at least she knows her friends will be waiting for her tonight, and they will celebrate her victory with her. Because her home is in her dreams. 


	2. Old Wound and Old Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for implied child abuse.

Dorian enters the tavern, and there is something about his body language that instantly gets Bull's attention. Dorian's usual swagger is subdued, his step a little more urgent, as soon as he has Bull's attention he motions for the Qunari to meet him outside. They find a quiet corner, and Bull instantly is certain something is wrong.

"Something happened in the Emerald Graves, we came across a mansion full of undead and a particularly nasty Arcane Horror, but that wasn't the worst of it."

Bull waits for Dorian to continue, a ball of cold darkness starting to form in the pit of his stomach.

"She seemed fine while we there, but when we got back, well, she just sort of shut down. Cole tried to help, but she did something, and now he won't be in the same room with her. I thought you might be able to do something. "

Dorian's voice trails off, he runs a hand through his impeccable hair, actually mussing it. Bull stares the Vint down, knowing there is more to what happened. Dorian closes his eyes a moment, and crosses his arms over his torso, essentially putting up a barrier. Bull just waits, feeling this is more about Dorian protecting himself than trying to hide something from him. 

"We found journals, books, notes, all pointing to some horrific southern parenting choices. I really do not understand what is wrong with these people. I got the impression that these things struck a nerve with our dear Inquisitor."

\---

Persephone is alone in her room, the windows are all wide open, a fire rages in the hearth, and her papers are scattered across the floor, blown there by the ever present mountain breeze that streams through the open doors. She really should pick those papers up, they are important, maybe in a minute she will have enough energy to go do it. Maybe. She idly picks at a loose thread on the canopy curtain nearest to her spot on the floor at the foot of her bed. Even with the fire burning so hot, the stones of the tower floor radiate cold. She closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing, sending more out than she breathes in, just like she had been taught.   
Frustration simmers just below the surface, that these feelings and memories should not be haunting her. It isn't like she didn't know other children had gone through what she had, or worse. Some of the apprentices at the circle used to compare stories of the things they'd endured. She just wants to sleep, but her nerves jangle, and her body refuses to let go of whatever this is.   
She needs to apologize to Cole, her words were too harsh, he was only trying to help, but the brush of his consciousness against hers had startled her, and she had reacted instinctively, throwing up her mental walls with a flash of fire.   
Her stomach grumbles, the sound seeming unusually loud in the empty room. She should eat, she hasn't eaten in nearly a day, now that she thinks about it. Maybe that is why she feels so weak?   
A steady rhythm of bootfalls on wood echoes upwards, hijacking her train of thought. Her first instinct is to hide, the second is to put out the fire, and the third is to mentally berate herself for the first two ideas. She is an adult, she is not in trouble, she is safe. She repeats these things to herself, over and over, trying desperately to have those things sink into her tired brain. As the footsteps near she sees horns pop into view, which instantly triggers a massive wave of shame.   
She can't let him see her like this, she needs to get up, fix her braid, straighten her wrinkled clothes. But it is like she has become part of the floor, the ability to move seems to have completely disappeared.   
Bull rounds the top of the stairs and takes it all in. The room is incredibly warm from the unnaturally hot burning fire, which he tries not to think too much about, even with the doors wide open. Out of the corner of his eye he glances at the woman sitting against the bedframe. Her body screams her discomfort and pain, making him want to rush over and pick her up carefully, reminding him just how much he has become attached to her. He resists that urge, certain she would run if he attempted any such thing at this moment. Instead he busies himself with picking up the wind strewn items and returning them to their homes, next he close the windows, and one of the balcony doors; which drastically cuts down on the chaos and cold wind. He thinks about the things Cole told him as he moves about. The spirit had been waiting below, hands fidgeting, worried about her.   
Once his straightening up is done, he moves towards the bed to retrieve a blanket. Slowly and gently he wraps the soft wool around her shoulders, she murmurs a sound that he takes as thanks, but she doesn't meet his gaze. 

"Cold. Always cold. Never can get warm enough." Was one of the things Cole had said, and the way he had said it made it clear that whatever their Inquisitor is going through is something that concerns them deeply. He had also mentioned water and rage, something about a father, and other things that seemed harmless without context.   
He lowers himself carefully to the ground, so his back is against the foot of the bed, his hip is not quite touching hers. She doesn't move, and still stares with a blank gaze towards the blue sky above the mountaintops. There are dark circles under her eyes, her nails have been chewed short, something that has never happened since he has met her. They sit there what feels like an eternity, he studies her, and she stays distant and unmoving. Finally the silence is too much, so he speaks, softly.   
"Kadan. Kadan, what can I do to help you?"

She stays still, then turns her head just enough to see him out of the corner of her vision. What she sees is his love for her, caring, and a genuine wish to help, among other things. She breathes deeply and tries to focus on those emotions, so maybe they'll help thaw this paralysis. She wants to speak, but her tongue feels glued to the roof of her mouth. Seeming to understand, Bull scoots closer until their sides touch through the blanket. That contact brings heat, and slowly she begins to lean on him as if she is melting onto him. His arm wraps around her, pulling her closer. When she doesn't resist, he scoops her up to place her on his lap. It takes a minute, but he resituates the blanket so it is wrapped around them both.   
Her body is still fairly tense, but the chill seems to be slowly seeping out of her bones. The feel of his skin beneath her ear is comforting, it anchors her to him and this room. As the sun begins to set she feels her eyelids begin to feel heavy, finally. Relief sweeps through her, giving her enough energy to mutter "bed, please" and wrap her arms tightly around him. He complies, picking her up and then placing her carefully beneath the big canopy. He tugs his boots off and undoes his harness before slipping under the covers to be next to her again.   
She slides over, nestling her head against his shoulder. He wraps a protective arm around her after moving the pillows into a formation that will support his head. She cuddles up close, enjoying his warmth, and his grounding presence.   
After the sun sets he finally feels her slip into slumber, which instantly makes her relax. Relief fills his senses, which helps him relax into his own bit of sleep.


	3. Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for mentions of child abuse.

He wakes at dawn, instantly uneasy. She isn't sleeping, she is sitting as far from him as she can get without leaving the bed. Persephone watches him stretch and shift, her expression neutral, which makes him even more concerned. Once he is still, she stares at him, fingers wrapped around her elbows.   
"Bull, we need to talk about my being a mage."  
The second half of that sentence is a surprise, and his mind draws a blank on a reply. She notes his confusion, sighs, then continues.   
"Look, I know how mages are treated in the Qun, I know how you feel about demons, magic, and everything that has to do with being a mage. So I've withheld things about myself in an attempt to keep you comfortable, and in some small way, to protect myself too."  
As she speaks she begins unbraiding her very messy braid, something to keep her hands busy. After getting to know her, he had realized she always had her hair pinned up not for fashion or practical reasons, she keeps it up because she knows her tell is fiddling with her hair. So the fact she is playing with it now, well, not good.  
"I love you Bull, but I love myself too. I love myself enough to know that I won't change myself for you. I plan on making this world better for those who haven't been treated fairly. Primarily the mages, and the elves. Which means big change. Change I'm not sure you are going to be thrilled about. I know we have differing opinions on magic and those who use it, so we generally just don't talk about it...   
But I can't do that anymore. I should know by now that not talking about things will only end badly, like yesterday."  
She watches him warily, waiting to see his reaction, but she doesn't get anything more than the impression that he is listening, and thinking. So she continues, hands still untangling her hair.   
"A lot of horrible things happened to me as a child, and I probably would have died if not for my friends. My spirit friends. From listening to Solas and Dorian, meeting Cole, I know you've learned there really is a difference. I learned most of my magic from them, I learned to let go of vengeance, but hold onto justice. Their whispers gave me hope, hope that kept me from giving up on life when people tried to drown the magic out of my soul."   
She doesn't even look at him now, she just focuses on her nimble fingers, as they coax each knot of dark red hair apart.   
"Ostwick was not a haven, I was bullied and beaten, but I got strong, made more friends in the fade, and some in this world. A lot of my non-spirit friends didn't survive the Circle's rebellion, more died at the conclave, a couple of those losses hurt more than I can say."  
Her voice trails off, and her gaze grows distant a moment, as memories of those she lost come back to the surface. He can tell she isn't done speaking, which is fine, as he is still trying to chew everything she has said so far. After a moment she resumes.   
"I guess what I'm trying to tell you is, well, that if you're not okay with all this magic stuff, then we probably shouldn't continue our relationship. I can't change that part of me for you, I have too much riding on my shoulders to stop now, even if I wanted to. I have a chance to bring about great change, so no more children have to worry about hiding their gifts upon pain of torture or death, so no more elven children have to grow up in slums, parents forced into slavery to feed them. I plan to use the Inquisition after we defeat Corypheus and his army..."  
She looks at him now, chin held up stubbornly, and he can tell she has been wanting to say these things for awhile.   
"So, if I'm going to be involved with someone, I need to know they are willing to stand up with me. I need to keep my footing and that means having a partner who doesn't feel like I am forcing them to fight for things they don't believe in."  
She pauses for a moment, hair now loose and mostly untangled.  
"Andraste's ass, I feel like I can't quite get out exactly what I mean. I'm sorry, kadan, if this isn't terribly clear. And this isn't something you have to figure out now, I just, I just needed to make sure everything is out in the open."  
Those last sentences come out in a rushed heap, with exasperated hand movements to match. The early morning sun catches her skin, making it shine almost bronze, while making her hair look as if it is on fire. These images added to the emotions tied to her speech leave the big qunari silent. It is a lot to process after all.   
He thinks, shifts to sitting, his shoulders meeting the top rim of the headboard, an uncomfortable position, but right now he doesn't really care. Where he is now was not supposed to happen, how he feels now was definitely not supposed to happen. In less than a year his whole world has completely flipped upside down, first the hole in the sky, then meeting her, becoming tal-vashoth, ending up in the fade, and they have plans to leave for Halamshiral in just a few weeks, to attend a ball of all things... So he isn't too surprised when he realizes his views on quite a few points has changed.  
She waits, somehow managing to make him feel completely unpressured, her whole body much less tense now that she has gotten everything out in the open. She looks so harmless in her rumpled clothing, hair puffed out, dark circles still present under her eyes. He knows that she is anything but harmless, he has watched her use not only her magic, but her skill with a bladed staff, to maim and kill countless enemies.   
She fidgets now,  
"Bull?"  
"Yes?"  
"Do you mind if sit next to you again? I'm cold."  
She almost blushes, obviously she had meant to give him space until he had initiated contact, but the ever present chill of Skyhold has made her seek warmth. And comfort. Some of the things Cole had said make more sense now. He lifts an arm, making a space for her next to him, which she quickly slips into.   
It is odd how well they fit together, how that is true in so much more than the physical sense. She is honest, he had first thought of that as a weakness, now, however, he now realizes it is one of her greatest strengths. That honesty threw him, why he didn't respond to her open interest as quickly as he might have. And then, when their relationship had become more, more than just sex, more than part of his mission to be close to the Inquisition, he had realized she is his counterpoint. He is the liar, hell, that was his name, but Persephone? She brings out the truth, in him, in others. So when she says spirits saved her, he believes her. And, somehow, he isn't as bothered by that as he would have thought.   
He has seen a different side of magic and those who use it since joining the Inquisition. Not a single abomination has appeared in Skyhold, no one acts like a blood magic puppet, and now, he even considers a spirit a friend of his own.  
"You're frowning an awful lot."  
Her tone is light, but the worry is still there. He has found that making her worry is not something he enjoys, although having someone to worry about you is surprisingly nice. He has wanted to tell her this, and other emotional crap, but he can never make the words actually exit his mouth. It is one thing to say the words to gain an assets trust, or to fool an opponent, but to say those words when you actually mean them? Much harder. So he has done his best to show her his feelings, which has worked pretty well. So he hugs her, pulling her close, trying convey just how much he cares. She responds in kind, squeezing him back, her head pressed into his shoulder, forehead resting against his jaw.


	4. Bull Has A Lot Of Time To Think

She doesn't bring things up again, she keeps things light, makes jokes, fights by his side still. He doesn't change much either, but he spends more time thinking than drinking when he is alone in the tavern. He stays behind when she leaves to help Cassandra and Dorian track down some more people that need killing before they leave for the Winter Palace.   
Krem notices the big boss' new introspective attitude but doesn't comment, he just keeps the Chargers fit and ready, and waits for the Inquisitor to return.   
When Persephone arrives back in Skyhold she is swept up by the advisors, their meetings last hours, darkness falls and still the main part of the stronghold buzzes with activity. As it nears midnight she still hasn't appeared for her customary visit, Bull feels a peculiar sense of cold numbness as each person who arrives through the tavern door isn't her. Eventually he has to move, so he lumbers up the stairs to his room. He feels no better there, so he takes himself to the battlements, where he paces awhile, then contents himself with sharpening the various blades he keeps handy.   
He is on his third blade when Cullen appears, looking happy to be in the open air.   
"Maker, I knew this is going to be difficult, but I had no idea that the biggest sticking point would be what the Inquisitor will be wearing at this ridiculous ball."   
Bull lifts his head to glance at the former Templar, Cullen takes this as an invitation to continue.  
"Madame De Fur and Leliana are insisting that the Inquisitor wears this big dress with intricate embroidery, flames, and some other stuff I don't quite understand. She, however, disagrees quite strongly and is threatening to show up in armor crusted in blood. Josephine was trying to find a compromise for the fourth time when I left. Thought there might be a duel soon, had to get some fresh air."   
Bull grunts, which doesn't do much to fill the silence, Cullen eventually heads towards his tower, leaving the qunari alone to his thoughts. A little flicker of something loosens the cold feeling, maybe she isn't here because they're still hashing out the details of the ball, not because she is distancing herself from him. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Krem saw this coming, won a nice amount of gold.)


	5. A Ball, And A Note Home

The air is thick with the scents of overly perfumed flowers and blood, a fitting mixture for the conclusion of their evening. Persephone rests her elbows on the railing of the balcony in a completely unladylike way, her mother would be scandalized. Her dress is in amazingly good condition, all the protection enchantments obviously having done their job. She still isn't happy about having to wear the gown, but at least she had been allowed to wear the much less flamboyant gown over what Vivienne and Leliana had originally chosen for her. As pretty as the black dress is, with it's gold metalwork and gauze sleeves, it still feels too much like mage robes. At least she is still wearing boots, fancy leather boots with intricate leatherwork, but still boots.  
A shadow looms in the doorway, but she doesn't shift, she will wait for him to come to her. She had asked him to dance earlier, he had thought she was joking, his surprise was genuine when he realized she asked in all seriousness. Even if he decides to not commit to a future with her, she is determined to enjoy what time she has with him now.  
She opens and closes her hand a few times, as the mark aches from all the use she had to make of it tonight. Big fingers rub her palm soothingly, both of The Iron Bull's hands wrapped around her own. She smiles, he talks, light stuff, complains about the lack of food, asks her how she is doing. She let's him lead the conversation, thanks him for the rub once he releases her hand.  
Then he asks her to dance, the sparkle back in his eye, her heart squeezes with hope, and she does her best to act normal as they walk to the dancefloor. For such a big man he is awfully light on his feet, matching her every move, letting her lead. She focuses on him, lets everything else fall to the back of her mind for the moment, and it is so cliche, but the whole world falls away while they glide across the ballroom. It is just the two of them, the music, and the floor beneath their feet. She had forgotten to put her mask back on, so he can see every thought that flickers across her face, see how much she loves him. He is suddenly very hot, ears burning, he is in the shit now, because in this moment he realizes he would face countless demons for her, he would go back in the fade for her, let alone help her change the world.  
The music ends too soon, the crowd applauds loudly, Josephine clapping louder than most. The attention brings a blush to the Inquisitor's cheeks, and she quickly seeks an escape. They return to the balcony, both hot and a bit breathless from their dance. She is glowing, she never let go of his hand during their escaped, so she still holds it now. He can't stop looking at her, skin flushed, happiness crinkling the corners of her eyes. She stands on the balls of her feet and kisses his cheek.  
"Thank you for the dance, Bull. Something tells me we will be the talk Orlais' nobles for a good while. Oh how I wish we didn't have to stay here any longer, I loath the Game."  
"For someone who loathes the Game, you play it awfully well. That dance with the duchess was impressive, and I'm not just talking about your dancing skills. I don't think any of your advisors expected you to play so masterfully."  
He chuckles, the sound making her smile instantly.  
"And what about you? Did I surprise you as well?"  
"I'd be lying if I said no."  
She laughs then, not a chuckle, but a true, deep from the gut, laugh. Wisps of red hair halo around her face as she laughs, skin around her eyes crinkling. The heat he had felt on the dance floor returns, even stronger now, he responds by bending down and scooping her up. She doesn't question, just wraps both arms around his neck.  
"Persephone?"  
His voice is thick and gravelly, sending a shiver down her spine, his voice was something she had instantly loved.  
"Yes, The Iron Bull?"  
He doesn't smile, or answer immediately, he just rests his forehead against hers. She leans back into him, then kisses the corners of his mouth softly.  
"If you'll have me, I will follow you until the end of the world, kadan."  
His words are simply spoken, but she knows that he means them, that he has thought long and hard before getting to the point where he could say them. She doesn't speak, just resumes kissing every part of him not covered in clothing that she can reach, his eyes, his ears, the nape of his neck, which makes him growl. Now she chuckles, then nips an earlobe for good measure, before whispering directions to her room in the guest wing.

\--

 

_Dear Mother,_

_I am sure the rumors have reached you by now, that your daughter danced with a Qunari called The Iron Bull at Halamshiral. I am sure the various circles of nobility are rife with gossip and prospective ideas of what that might mean. And I am sure these things are the focus, and not that I helped end the Civil War in Orlais. Thus, I thought it would be best if I wrote you myself._  
 _Yes we danced, and it is not the first time either. No, there is no wedding planned, although if there ever is, you would be one of the first to be notified. And no, do not pester me about it, I am far too busy saving Thedas from ruin._  
 _Give my love to the other far more respectable Trevelyn children, and my favorite aunt (you can tell her the dancing lessons paid off finally)._  
 _Affectionately Yours,_  
 _Inquisitor Persephone Beatrice Serena Trevelyan,_ **Not** The Herald Of Andraste 

_P.S. Please tell Father I have a raging fire in my room every night, and that is my hope to one day show him just how well it burns. Do not worry, it is an old joke between us._

_P.P.S. Enclosed is a signed copy of The Champion's Tale, signed by Varric Tethras himself, don't say I never get you anything. You will now be the envy of your reading club._

She sends the letter off with one of Leliana's crows, and doesn't leave the ramparts until it is out of sight. Dorian waits for her at the bottom of the stairs to the rookery, crooked smile on his face.  
"Couldn't help yourself, could you?"  
"Of course not."  
He laughs, she smiles back.  
"You're just lucky I decided to let you read it first. Now then, I believe I have an hour to go over those notes with you before I am summoned to another meeting, shall we get to work?"


	6. Correspondence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone writes The Iron Bull whenever they're apart after they committed to a long term relationship. This is one letter she wrote while securing the Hissing Wastes.

Dear Bull,

I love it here. I know, shocking, right? Of all the places I've traveled with the Inquisition who would of thought I'd love the Hissing Wastes the most? It has a simplicity I think you would appreciate. And it is exactly what I needed after the chaos of Halamshiral.  
It gets too hot here when the sun is out, so all life hides or slumbers until dusk. Then as it goes from hot-enough-to-burn-your-skin-off to cold-enough-to-freeze-body-parts-off, the wind clears out the clouds and endless stars reflect off the desert. It is breathtaking.  
Between Red Templars, Venatori, unfriendly wildlife, rifts, and the most fascinating dwarven ruins I've never seen, a week's worth of nights has just flown by.  
There is sand in my every nook and cranny (can't wait to enjoy a bath again), and I lost my favorite boots to spider venom. Also need to replace the blade on my staff, as apparently dragonhide is a bit too tough.  
That's right, I fought a dragon without you, which felt very strange, I might add. It wasn't planned, I was locating a dwarven tomb when we almost literally stumbled upon the magnificent creature. It was sleeping soundly behind some pillars, and I was considering retreat when someone accidentally loosed a large rock that clattered down the hill. We all froze, the dragon stirred, but did not wake, just merely shifted and began snoring so loud the ground shook. In hushed whispers my fellow mages discussed retreat and who had caused the rock to dislodge from the hillside.   
I must have had a glint of your battle lust in my eyes, or perhaps it was my fingers playing with the flap of my grenades pouch, either way, Solas noticed something. He gave me the most peculiar look, pride mixed with a quelling glare, which made it clear he knew exactly what I was thinking, and that he technically did not approve but also some part of him seemed to be egging me on a bit. Vivienne caught wind that something was up, stated "no" in her best Grand Enchanter voice. Dorian looked at me and shrugged. Then I threw a jar of bees at the sleeping dragon.  
Oh the roar of rage it let loose! Gave me goosebumps, and I giggled, I admit it. Solas had barriers up instantly, and he seemed completely unsurprised by my actions. Vivienne used a lot of words, mostly disapproving (I think I heard "reckless" used at least a dozen times), between each of her spells. Dorian laughed that great belly buster of his, entertained by both my actions and Vivienne's ire   
The battle was nothing special. To be honest it felt a bit like cheating. Between Solas and myself we almost always had a barrier in place, so the dragon could never get too close or deal much damage. Vivienne channeled her anger quite well and showed me just how lethal an experienced Knight Enchanter can be. The best part was when we synced our staff rhythm, all four of us firing off our spells in harmony. I bet it it was an impressive sight, not that anyone was around to see it.  
Obviously the battle ended in our favor, and as a bonus I found that tomb I was looking for! I have to say, fighting that dragon together has definitely improved moral between my fellow mages, as the snark factor has lessened a few degrees. Which is a relief.  
I have just a few more things to wrap up before I leave the army in charge of the last of the cleanup. Then I look forward to returning to Skyhold as quickly as possible, where I plan on taking a nice hot bath to remove all the filth, followed by a trip to the kitchen where I will collect a tray of my favorite foods, a bottle of wine, which I will bring back to enjoy while I take a second, larger, longer, hotter, bath.   
I shouldn't have written that, now I'm even more homesick and grungy feeling.   
Uncomfortably yours,  
Persephone

P.S. Just in case the tone doesn't translate well, I'm inviting you to join me in that second bath. Andraste's ass I'm bad at romance.


End file.
